Before I can wonder exactly what she’s heard, she extends her hand.“Dr.Myra.Pediatrics at Mercy General.”
I blink in surprise as we shake hands.“I didn’t realize there were other doctors in the… club.”
“Not in the club,” she corrects gently.“With the club.There’s a difference.”She gestures to the man now speaking with Greyson.“My husband Ryan is patched in.I just come with the territory.”
The two guys hover nearby, their posture a contrast—one lounging with affected casualness against the wall, the other standing alert, eyes constantly scanning the room.
“My sons,” Myra continues, following my gaze.“Cash and Creed, though in here they answer to Havoc and Chaos.”The affectionate eye roll that accompanies this statement suggests a long-standing maternal resignation to club nicknames.
The more relaxed of the two, Cash, I’m guessing, straightens slightly.“So you’re the doctor Slaughter’s been stalking since high school?”His tone is teasing, but there’s genuine curiosity beneath it.
“Cash,” Myra warns, but I find myself smiling despite the situation.
“I wouldn’t call it stalking,” I reply, feeling Zach tense slightly beside me.
“No?”The other brother, Creed, raises an eyebrow.“Because the way Tiana tells it, he’s been following you home for years.”
Heat rises to my face, but before I can respond, Zach cuts in.
“Don’t you two have something better to do?Like patrol duty?”His tone is light, but there’s an edge beneath it.
Cash grins, clearly enjoying Zach’s discomfort.“Nope.Grey’s got us on lockdown, remember?Which means we’re stuck inside.With you.And your doctor.”He emphasizes the last two words with undisguised glee.
“Ignore them,” Myra advises me.“They’ve known Zach since they were in diapers.They think it gives them special tormenting privileges.”
“It absolutely does,” Cash confirms.“Someone’s got to keep Slaughter humble.”
Zach mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a threat, but there’s no real heat behind it.I realize with a start that this is familiar territory for him, this banter, this brotherhood.A side of him I’m only beginning to glimpse.
“Where’s Mia?”Zach asks, changing the subject.
“Already here,” Myra answers.“She came in with the first wave after the hospital incident.She’s helping set up the sleeping arrangements upstairs.”
The door opens again, admitting more people: women carrying children, and men with duffel bags and grim expressions.The clubhouse is rapidly filling, transforming from a bar into something that feels more like a bunker or a community shelter.
“Come on,” Zach says quietly, his hand moving to my elbow.“Let’s find somewhere quieter to talk.”
I follow him through the crowd, nodding at the occasional familiar face: nurses from the hospital, a paramedic I’ve worked with, even a few patients I recognize.The Devil Souls’ reach extends further into the community than I’d realized.
Zach leads me down a hallway lined with doors, away from the growing noise.He stops at one, pushing it open to reveal a small but neat bedroom.A queen-sized bed dominates the space, flanked by simple nightstands.The walls are bare except for a framed photograph I can’t quite make out from the doorway.
“My room,” he explains, stepping aside to let me enter.“When I stay here.”
I move past him, taking in the sparse furnishings, the military precision of the made bed, the complete lack of personal items except for that single photograph.Curious, I step closer to examine it.
It’s Zach as a teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen, standing beside a motorcycle with his father’s arm draped across his shoulders.Both are smiling, a rare, unguarded moment captured in time.
“First bike,” Zach says, closing the door behind him.The click of the latch seems unnaturally loud in the quiet room.“Dad helped me rebuild it from scrap.”
I turn to face him, suddenly aware of the intimacy of being alone with him in his space.His expression has softened, the enforcer temporarily set aside.
“So,” I say, perching on the edge of the bed.“Are you going to tell me what’s really happening?Why we’re on lockdown with half the town’s families?”
Zach leans against the door, arms crossed over his chest.The position should be intimidating, but instead, it just emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders, the lean strength of him.
“The Reapers are making a statement,” he says, voice low and controlled.“Testing boundaries, seeing how we’ll respond.They drove by the school, the hospital, even your apartment building.”
My stomach tightens.“Looking for weak spots.”
